


Locked

by physically_affectionate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:04:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/physically_affectionate/pseuds/physically_affectionate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock courts Janine for one reason: to get access to Magnussen. When all his carefully curated plans fall through by finding Magnussen already shot and dead, he has to try and find the murder, while negotiating a relationship with Janine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked

Sherlock had determined that telling John about his plan with Janine would have five possible outcomes, with two of them adding to 98%.  

1) John wouldn't tell Mary and therefore Janine wouldn't find out (unlikely but possible) and 2) John would tell Mary and therefore Janine by extension (statistically more probable). 

The other three possibilities were irrelevant. 

This meant, that to avoid suspicion on John's behalf, Sherlock had to sell his relationship to John too; although it must be boring in John's little head, he does pick up quickly on things Sherlock would rather he wouldn't. John is no Mycroft or Moriarty, but he is smart compared to a standard issue human. This means that Sherlock has to pretend that he is in relationship with feelings all the time.

Faking feelings and a relationship is actually quite challenging for Sherlock; he has no experience or knowledge to go on, apart from some observations of the behaviour between his parents, and John and Mary.

Maybe it would just be easier to keep the relationship on the downlow.

Sherlock stretches out on the bed, feet getting tangled up with the blankets, accidentally pulling it down to expose the mostly naked body beside him, waist up. The body beside him protests in their sleep, turning over from lying on their front to showing a hand under the pillow and lying on their side, like a log, facing Sherlock. Lazily, the free hand starts grabbing around for the blanket.

Letting his hand wander in planned increments, Sherlock grabs the edge of the blanket - a horrible floral thing that had been forced upon him - and slides it between the fingertips of the searching hand. The hands grabs at it easily, and pulls it up.

The blanket settles around the body, and Sherlock has no doubt that Janine is beautiful, by both technical definition and personal opinion. The skin covering her shoulders is tanned and clear, with only a small crescent scar on the tip of the shoulder blade. Her arms are relaxed, her eyes closed and lips softly parted, breath being drawn in and out automatically. She's calm, safe, relaxed, and so asleep that she doesn't stir when Sherlock reaches over to touch her.

The female body is still quite foreign to Sherlock, even after The Woman, and even then Janine's body is different. She doesn't wear her skin in the same way that The Woman did, doesn't wear it like an outfit or a battle armour. Nevertheless, she is comfortable in it; this is apparent in how she is comfortable sleeping nude with him, with no pants in the kitchen, with joining him for a shower (these are not comfortable for him though, but something he has to deal with for a case.)

Peeking over the top of the blanket, Sherlock can see the tops of Janine's breasts pushed up. They're full bodied and covered in the same flawless skin as the rest of her body, but the blanket covers most is them, bar the tip of the dark brown patch. On some basic, human and chemical level, Sherlock can understand the appeal of a woman, but only in a biological way; largely they are just a part of the general, stupid population. Really, they present no desire to him, unless they are very smart criminals or just very smart. Janine, in this case, is neither; she is a tool to get him information and access.

The fascination is still there though, and Sherlock lets himself run a controlled finger along the side of her face, softer skin than his, over the curve of her shoulder, also softer than his, and then carefully draws the semicircles presented by her pushed up breasts.

Logically, he may understand, but that doesn't mean that he desires.

Sherlock knows that John wouldn't approve of this - using Janine to an end - but her whole presence in their lives is baffling. She was Mary's bridesmaid, and that in itself is a mystery. Mary has openly stated that she's an orphan with few friends. Until the wedding itself, Janine hadn't been mentioned in more than passing. Mary had shared no anecdotes about their fun times or parties or any thingy that is suggestive of the relationship of a best friend. In consideration, Sherlock doesn't actually know that much about Mary either. He knows that she has a cat (the reoccurring hair along the bottom of her pants and stockings), that she doesn't eat fish or broccoli ("I hate fish, never liked it, swap with me John? But you can keep the broccoli") and that she has worn the same perfume for the last ten years - Clair de la lune. These are common enough, but the fact that she can recognise a skip code is a complete contrast, and has been carefully stored away for later.

Janine starts to stir, light of the window starting to seep in and hit her in the face. She hazily blinks her eyes open a few times before looking up at Sherlock through her eyelashes.

"Morning gorgeous," she yawns, arms and legs stretching out, blanket falling down, revealing her torso to the world.

Sherlock had meant to fully close the blind last night before they had gone to bed, but he had lost the thought in between the cravings and trying to hide them from Janine. His investigations had lead him to believe that drug habits aren't desirable in a partner, and keeping Janine around in for this case - even if she doesn't know it - is very important. He had found it useful to buy a few home maintenance magazines so he could observe and identify what a normal house was like. Apparently they didn't contain copious amounts of scientific equipment or eyeballs in tea cups, so they were carefully stored away in John's old room, as to not scare Janine away, ready for the time that Sherlock needs to scare Janine away. Mrs Hudson had expressed her approval over his morning tea.

"Good morning," Sherlock replies, trying not to let his voice sound as uncomfortable as he is. They may have been 'sleeping together' for nearly four weeks now, on and off every few nights, but that doesn't mean that Sherlock is completely accustomed to a basically naked woman in his bed. She's sedate, both from sleep and from their night's activities.

Right off the bat, Sherlock was aware that Janine was a sexual being. Considering that a small percentage of his brain power at the wedding was used to help find her an acceptable sexual partner (which for the record, could have been better used finding the Invisible Man), he is completely aware. He isn't completely sure how he has lasted this long without any advancements by Janine, but his (false) heartfelt conversation with her may have had some influence. If he had known that a bit of crying worked this well, he may have started using it a long time ago. This doesn’t mean that he can get out of it all together; he has learnt quite a lot about kissing lately.

Janine throws an arm over Sherlock's waist, fingers curling around his side as she snuggles up to him; Sherlock tries not to show his discomfort. When she doesn't say anything, Sherlock speaks. "You never told me how you and Mary met."

"You've never asked," she hums in response. "But shouldn't you be able to deduce that?"

He doesn't have enough information to deduce that, and he's about to be snappy about it when he calms himself. All he knows is that they're new friends in the scheme of things, that Mary asked her to be the maid of honor because she wasn't fussy but had a dry humor, that they like to hang out together because neither of them are demanding as friends. Mary wouldn't be at a club or bar; Janine wouldn't frequent the library, lives on the other side of town and goes to a different doctor.

"I cannot," he says, half shrugging.

"Remember that sushi bar we went to for that date? Well, Mary and I were always in line behind each other during lunch hour, and after a few weeks, I just talked to her," Janine replies nonchalantly. Janine has a fondness for fish, and has dragged him across the city to visit her favorite sushi restaurant. Judging from the handful of receipts he has seen in her wallet, all dated from the within the last month, he can assume that Janine frequents the establishment. "And she ended up being cool, we hung out."

Even Sherlock is aware that that's not a serious enough friendship for a maid of honor to come out of, but he doesn't say anything. He nods along, remembering that nodding helps establish more honest rapport between two people.

No more is spoken after that, much to Sherlock's relief, even if Janine finds the need to snuggle him - illogical unless there is a need to conserve body heat. Snuggling and hugging are equally as baffling.

He indulges her, setting an arm around her and placing an awkward kiss on her forehead. He gives her until 8:30am before he starts getting out of bed, disentangling himself from the sheets and woman beside him. "I've got to go to work."

"It's a Sunday," Janine says slightly confused, eyebrows knitting together. "Normal people shouldn't be up at this hour, no matter going to work."

Sherlock looks unamused. Janine laughs as she looks up to his face, chin sliding along his chest. "Point taken."

He dresses, tries not to show his discomfort with her eyes following him, eyes on every movement. Luckily, just as he is about to find an undershirt, she gets distracted by her phone, sitting up and leaning against the head of the bed, knees pulled up and hands resting on them, typing on the screen. He pulls it on, and then a basic tee, and she is so engrossed in her phone that she doesn't comment on his choice of garments.

He eats quickly, makes no comments about the fish fingers that have suddenly appeared in his fridge, and gets out of there as quickly as he can, leaving Janine alone in his apartment.

Making his way to his second home, he flicks the hood of his jumper over his head, and disappears onto the darkness.

+

Sherlock hasn't been able to get to the house much lately, gets there in between the times that Janine requires his attention, and always showers before he sees her again. She doesn't need to know about what he's doing, and she is a lot easier to fool than John ever was. She is also a lot easier to get away from than John ever was.

It's for a case, he tells himself, because he doesn't have an addiction. _It's for a case_. Being addicted isn't an option for him, not again, but when he doesn't make it home that night, a slightly concerned text from Janine in his pocket, he tells himself that it's for a case. _I'm not addicted._

Whether Sherlock wants to admit it or not, he is well on his way to being addicted. He has been here before, the smoke filling up his lungs and shutting down his mind, the magic juice in his veins making it easier to exist in a world of idiots. He had tried to get out, had gotten out before, resorting to cigarettes and the focus they can provide, but that never stops the memories from replaying. He has the personality to get addicted too, and his mind never stops; it only ever stops when he makes it.

The knowledge that he needs to stop, that it's a waste of money and detrimental to his mind and body, is worthless in the face of numbness. But he needs people to think that he has a drug habit, that his pressure point is drugs, it's for a case; it's not his fault that it's so damned tempting.

Human error.

+

Someone is talking to Sherlock again, but he can't tell who it is through the haze. He can't think logically, like his brain has been shut off. It's euphoric, and Sherlock wonders if it's how normal people feel.

But he isn't addicted to this feeling again. Not yet. 

+

It actually is for a case, mostly.

+

The next time he hears somebody talking, it isn't to him. He recognises the voice though, the deep tones and commanding words, so he rolls over in the bed he has awaken in (not sure how he got there) to see John grabbing at a boy. Sherlock doesn't know the same of the child, but he recognises the face; they've shared something at some point in time.

"Oh hello John, didn't expect to see you here, come to see me?" He asks, quite sure that it's John. He has seen John wear that sweater multiple times and if the voice didn't give away the identity, the smell would have. He smells like the only clean thing in this place, his cologne providing a contrast against the stench of the house; a doctor with a doctor’s need to be sterile.

Sherlock is no where near clean, his last hit still floating about in his system, and he finds it slightly hard to focus on John.

He would like to point out that he doesn't act like a child. (He does.) 

+

Mary's car isn't designed to transport three fully grown men in the back seat, and it doesn't help that there are empty water bottles rolling around under their feet along with a small plastic bag filled with paper rubbish. John is off doing his moody thing and Mary looks plainly confused. Sherlock keeps quiet in the back, trying to find a comfortable way to be seated.

His foot kicks the rubbish bag and some of the paper rubbish falls out, scattering around. One piece catches his eye.

It's a receipt from over eight months ago, from Janine's sushi place. It's an order for three salmon rolls and one shrimp one, under the name Mary.

Sherlock kicks the boy to the right until he emits a strangle of a noise, jumping slightly in his seat. "What was that for?" The boy demands, hand rubbing his leg.

"Let me take a look at it," Sherlock pretends to insist, bending at the waist to look at the boy's leg, hands pretending to inspect it as the left one picks the receipt.

"Sherlock, you're not a doctor. Just leave it before you do anymore damage; I'll check it later," John orders, voice clearly not amused.

"Of course, good thinking John," Sherlock replies way too quickly, hoping that John didn’t notice his quick acquiesce.

+

Molly's slaps are still sting when he and John arrive at Baker Street, only to find the bearded Anderson and another person in there. He wonders who let them in, and if it was John, Sherlock has to confiscate that key.

The salmon coloured coat hanging beside the door tells Sherlock that Janine is still there, hopefully still in the bedroom. Before John follows him in, Sherlock grabs his own coat off the hook and places it over Janine's, obscuring the brightness of the colour and hiding it from sight.

He nearly gets away with it, Janine's presence remaining hidden to everybody as they leave he apartment until only John is there, and after he has turned the taps on over the bath, he hears the familiar creak of his door opening and closing. There are murmured voices in the kitchen; so John knows about Janine now then. Hopefully she stays in there, because he doesn’t need her invading him while he’s in his mind palace. 

The receipt is being carefully examined as Sherlock sits in the bath, and he holds it way above the water’s surface. It appears to be genuine; the smudging over the left part of the title is the same as all of Janine’s other receipts from the restaurant, due to the fact that the ink is slightly more soluble than other inks and that the attendants always rip it off before it has dried completely. He just can’t make any connections, and it doesn’t help that then Janine decides to appear, walking into the bathroom in only one of his shirts, tucking the receipt under his clothes.

Seeing a woman in your shirt, Sherlock is lead to believe from television shows, is supposed to recreate an emotion that he isn’t feeling. Mainly he’s just annoyed that he has to pay somebody attention, because he can’t not pay attention to his girlfriend if he wants to be convincing. 

Smiling and trying to make a sound of approval, Sherlock pulls his knees up in the bath to make space for Janine, splashing some water onto his face and into his hair, hoping to look a little less high. She smiles widely, skin around her eyes crinkling and her top lip turns up with little dimples. “So John knows,” she confessed, looking slightly guilty, hands fiddling with the buttons of his shirt around her body.

“Obviously,” he states, head cocking towards the door to show that he had overheard the conversation.

Everything around him is only slightly hazy now, coming out of the last of his high, so he doesn’t really watch her as she gets into the bathtub opposite him. He doesn’t see much, and as the water and bubbles settle around her, leaving only the length of her shoulders exposed. And Janine is very different from The Woman; Janine is obviously confident in herself and her looks, but they aren’t armour, they aren’t a weapon to be used against him. 

There is a second, a second where he wished he could actually understand, but it flirts off quickly, being replaced by the necessity of the actions of his situation. He needs to show Janine affection, and now that there is only water between them, he has to initiate something before she does, putting him in an unwanted situation. There’s only so long that he’s going to be able to put off being physically intimate with Janine, no matter how many reasons he gives her.

Reaching across the tub to grab her leg, she giggles as he pulls one back into his lap, running his hand up and down the length of her leg - moulding around the curve of the back of her calf, over her knee, along her thigh and then back again.

“I thought it was you Sherl,” she declared, pushing her other leg under Sherlock’s crossed ones, stretching out.

The things he has to endure for a case.

“I thought you had work today, so when we came back,” Sherlock starts, this time dragging the tips of his fingernails over her skin, creating an audible shiver, “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

She shrugs. “I gotta leave soon. I’ll be working late tonight.”

Viola, Sherlock thinks. Janine usually only works late if her boss is going to be out, as in accordance with the security regulations. She has to be there to be able to identify him when he returns to the building, incase the security system glitches. The body guards and security personal can’t make that identification, and only a handful of his P.A.s can.

Which means that Magnussen won’t be in the office, and Janine will.

All his effort was going to pay off soon enough. He needs to go shopping. 


End file.
